


Help Me I’m Alive

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubcon Kissing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pre-Slash, not medically accurate treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He kept his hearing focused on Stiles, mostly because he was closer and his heartbeat was easier to keep track of. Derek was tip toeing the delicate line between wakefulness and sleep, only half aware that he was almost dozing. Which was probably the reason why it took him several confusing seconds to wonder why the heartbeat he'd been listening to had turned from peaceful to panicked.</p><p> </p><p>Derek sat up with a jerk, chair thudding against the heavy carpet as the werewolf jumped to his feet and dashed out of the room when he realized that it was Stiles’ heart that was racing like mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help Me I’m Alive

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never had a panic attack and what I know about them has been learned from reading several articles on medical websites and some forums so I apologize for any mistakes that might be present here and I would dearly appreciate being told where I went wrong (and how I may correct it), thanks. 
> 
> Also, I'd say that Derek's handling of Stiles' panic attack isn't the best approach to go with so don't take it as an accurate example of what to do when someone is having a panic attack.
> 
> I didn't want to write this the way I did but the request specifically wanted a Sterek take on that scene where Lydia kisses Stiles out of his panic attack. Like, they wanted Derek in Lydia's place so. I tried to make the best of an iffy situation. I still feel that kissing someone when they're in a panic attack in the hopes of disrupting their breathing or whatever is really not a good way to go about it like, there's better ways.
> 
> The dubcon tags comes as a result of the kiss.

With a heavy sigh, Derek pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes shut for a few seconds. The burning sensation that had been itching at the corners lessened, smothered by the sweet darkness behind his eyelids. Derek was so tempted to slide down in his chair, rest his head against the wall and go to sleep for the rest of the week.  
  


But there was research to be done, a Darach and her sacrifices to track down, not to mention they had to find out where the Alpha Pack was and what they were planning to do with Scott. The thought of all their problems only served to strengthen Derek’s desire to sleep his troubles away.  
  


The sharp sound of cracking bones made him open his eyes. Stiles was on his feet, rolling his head slowly in a lazy circle that made a few bones pop. “Need to take a break.” Stiles muttered, walking towards the door.   
  


A break sounded good to Derek as well. He’d been pouring through book after book - picked from his own collection, some borrowed from Deaton and several thick tombs that Lydia had stashed away - for the better part of the night. His eyes had never felt so dry or tired of seeing tiny text on paper.  
  


Lydia it seemed, was of the same mind. “I’m going to grab something to eat.” She declared, rising up from between the nest she’d made for herself on the bed. There were books, papers and a map spread around her seat, organized in some system that only she knew and understood. Despite  _knowing_ how tired the girl must have been feeling, Derek was surprised by the sharpness of her gaze. “Would you like anything?”  
  


Derek shook his head, not wanting to admit that ever since he’d found out about Jennifer, his appetite had disappeared. With a delicate arch of one perfectly made eyebrow, Lydia gave him a tiny shrug that said ‘Suit yourself’ before stepping out of the bedroom.  
  


Closing his eyes, Derek pressed the back of his head against the wall and willed himself to not think about Jennifer. Julia. He shook his head, hard. _'Think about something else.'_  Derek scolded himself.   
  


What else was there to think about if not her or all the problems on their plate?  _'Keep an eye on them. Where are they? Focus your hearing.'_  His brain suggested. Yes, that would be a good enough distraction.  
  


Derek tipped the chair back, balancing on the back legs momentarily before the top rail softly clunked against the wall. With his eyes closed, Derek breathed in deep and extended his hearing.  
  


He focused on Lydia’s soft steps first, barely audible as she walked around the kitchen. There were soft clinks and clatters. Probably handling plates and cutlery, maybe a few bottles. She opened the fridge, stood there for around 10 seconds before pulling out a plastic bag. Maybe she was making sandwiches?  
  


Stomach gurgling with interest, Derek turned his attention towards Stiles. The teenager wasn’t pacing the hall as Derek thought he might be doing. He was stationary. At some point down the hall. Derek frowned, wondering if Stiles was standing by a window or something. It was only when he heard a faucet being turned that he realized that Stiles was in the bathroom.  
  


The rushing sound of water pouring through the pipes was strangely soothing, as was the way it rattled through the plumbing. It was noisy but homey at the same time. Reminded Derek of the times he'd wake up in the middle of the night and hear a toilet flush somewhere in the old Hale home. Derek relaxed further into the hard chair, counting the times Stiles splashed water onto his face (4 times).  
  


His shoulders began to relax, tiredness creeping over his muscles and brain the longer he listened to Stiles’ heart and the rushing water mixing together.  _'Just a few minutes…'_  Derek thought to himself, crossing his arms loosely across his chest.  
  


He kept his hearing focused on Stiles, mostly because he was closer and his heartbeat was easier to keep track of. Derek was tip toeing the delicate line between wakefulness and sleep, only half aware that he was almost dozing. Which was probably the reason why it took him several confusing seconds to wonder why the heartbeat he'd been listening to had turned from peaceful to panicked.  
  


Derek sat up with a jerk, chair thudding against the heavy carpet as the werewolf jumped to his feet and dashed out of the room when he realized that it was  _Stiles’_  heart that was racing like mad. Without a warning, or a care, Derek ran down the short hallway towards the bathroom.  
  


He twisted the doorknob with all his strength, not bothering to check if it was locked or not because he didn’t have the time. Crashing through the entrance, Derek immediately looked for anything, any intruder or entity that was causing Stiles’ racing heartbeat.  
  


There was no one in the tiled room but Stiles, huddled against the shower stall, head down against his knobbly knees, gasping loudly,  _harshly_ , for air. “Stiles.” Derek slipped slightly on the small brown mat planted in front of the sink, ignoring it in favor of sitting down in from the teenager. “Stiles!” He tried again, eyes darting all over him.  
  


Derek couldn’t make out anything  _physically_ wrong with the boy. There was no scent or sign of blood or injury. No indication than anything was wrong - besides the racing heart and choked off breathing. His hands fluttered uselessly over Stiles, wondering if maybe he’d missed something.  
  


It sounded like Stiles couldn’t breath, or at the very least was having trouble breathing. Derek offered a silent apology before tilting Stiles’ up out of its hiding place. His face was drawn and pale, wet, unseeing eyes staring past Derek at something that was causing him to suck in short gasps of air. He needed to help Stiles breath. How could he do that?  
  


Uncertain hands tipped Stiles’ face up, holding him in place as Derek inhaled deeply and pressed his lips against Stiles’ mouth, breathing in sharply. The teenager’s body twitched but nothing more. A second later Derek pulled back. He stared into bewildered eyes before ordering Stiles to “Breath with me.” The hollowness in Stiles' eyes was giving way to confusion, fat tears finally falling from their thin perch and rolling down Stiles’ cheeks. “Stiles, you need to breathe with me."  
  


Stiles' breathing was better than before but still unsteady. Working on instinct, Derek took hold of one of Stiles’ hands and pressed it against his own chest before repeating his words. "Breath with me Stiles. Follow me lead. Inhale." Derek sucked in a long, loud, deliberate breath. There was whistle of cool air between them as Stiles inhaled. Or tried too anyways. He hiccup-sobbed twice through the process. That was a good sign right?   
  


Feeling shaky with relief, Derek tightened his grip on Stiles' hand before exhaling slowly. “Breath with me.” Derek coached, clutching Stiles’ hand a little tighter against his chest before taking in a long breath. “1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.” The faint traces of a memory lingered at the edge of Derek's mind. Something about how meditation should involve short inhales but longer exhales to achieve calm. Or maybe Derek was just making that up as a justification for his actions.  
  


It took several stuttering tries before Stiles managed to follow Derek’s instructions. “You can do it. That’s good.” Derek murmured encouragingly as Stiles inhaled once again, keeping his eyes locked with Stiles. The heavy gasps had died down into small hiccups between one inhale and the next exhale. The teenagers heartbeat was…still too fast but it wasn’t anywhere  _near_ as frantic as it had been. There was also color returning to Stiles' face, eyes brimming with emotion.  
  


Stroking a careful thumb across Stiles’ hand, Derek looked searchingly into dark eyes before asking, “Are you alright?” There was an awareness there that had been lacking since Derek had barged in. But it wasn’t Stiles’ usual expression. If Derek was ready it right, Stiles seemed to be standing on the edge of a chasm that was filled with his worst fears.  
  


"No." Stiles croaked, fingers twitching under Derek’s hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, hiding within himself as Derek realized that his knees were really starting to hurt.   
  


Tentatively, Derek slipped his hand up to stroke and pet Stiles’ hair in the same way his mother used to do to him when he was scared, sullen or just plain in need of some affection. He waited for Stiles to tell him to stop or to leave him alone but the words never came.  
  


Instead, Lydia showed up at the doorway, eyes wide with panic and confusion as she asked, “What the hell happened?”  
  


Derek shrugged helplessly, not aware of the answer. It was Stiles who answered in a hoarse voice. “Panic attack.” Two pairs of sharp eyes immediately turned towards Stiles, who went back to pressing his forehead into his knees. “It hasn’t… happened in a while. I’ll be okay soon enough.”  
  


Turning towards Lydia for guidance, Derek raised a questioning eyebrow before looking meaningfully at Stiles. A part of him sighed tiredly at the realization that yet  _again_ , he didn’t know what to do. But he’d never met anyone who had panic attacks so you couldn’t really blame him for not knowing what to do right?   
  


Lydia nodded once, quick and sharp before stepping in and squatting down next to Derek. “What do you want us to do?” She asked in a gentle voice.  
  


A water drop fell down from somewhere, splashing against a solid surface with a sad plop. The tree on the side of the house scratched against several winds, urged on by the crisp breeze blowing outside. Stiles sucked in a rattly breath before whispering, “Some water. And just… stay. For a while?”   
  


After exchanging a quick look with the redhead, Derek let go of Stiles’ hand with a squeeze. “I’ll get the water.” Lydia nodded once more, settling down on the cold tiles with her legs tucked neatly under her. Stiles stared at her, a grateful look on his face before he directed it up at Derek.  
  


Derek felt a lump grow out of nowhere, making it hard for him to breath when Stiles murmured, “Thanks.”   
  


He shook his head, hands curling by his side. “Don’t worry about it.” Derek answered gruffly. Maybe he hadn't fucked up after all.


End file.
